The Angel's Metanoia
by Maeve.Pendergast
Summary: Metanoia: a transformative change of heart. The Jedi say the afterlife is chance to make amends. But what if the bridges you burnt can't be rebuilt? (The Sequel to The Wraith's Raison D'être)


**_The Angel's Metanoia_**

 ** _(_ The Sequel to _The Wraith's Raison D'être)_**

 ** _Metanoia: a transformative change of heart. The Jedi say the afterlife is chance to make amends. But what if the bridges you burnt can't be rebuilt?_**

 **Warning: contains mentions of suicide**

* * *

Of all the ways Qui-Gon had imagined the transition into the Force would feel, laying face-down on a tile floor was definitely not one. The cold tile bit into his cheek and caused him to scramble to his knees, the world pitching nauseatingly for a minute. Once his vision settled, he glanced around, realizing he was indeed in a hallway of the Temple. In front of him, the corridor stretched into nothingness but behind him… behind him it dissolved into a great forest, arched ceilings twisting into dark trees and thick leaf canopies. Climbing to his feet slowly, he took a few cautious steps towards the trees. The horizon was dark but small baubles glowed a soft amethyst leading the way through the forest. Some part of Qui-Gon felt he was trespassing like this was hallowed ground and he was unholy. A voice in his head whispered, _turn back… you are not welcome here… leave…_ And Qui-Gon almost did. He almost turned around right then and there but like the metaphorical cat, his curiosity got the best of him.

Stepping from the tile floor to the rough stone, his world was plunged into darkness. Something in the corner of his eyes caught his attention; staring out at him from behind a tree was a face. The mouth was twisted into a wicked smirk, the eyes crinkled like it was caught laughing. The space in between was empty, just two eyes and a mouth hovering like a spider on a web. Qui-Gon froze, shock and no small amount of fear ceasing all movement. The mouth opened and hissed at him, _we warned you not to come. We warned you…_ The trees behind him shuddered suddenly and twisted branches blossomed like an iron gate, trapping him in the forest.

And in the Temple hall behind him, a Noorian master screamed at him to stop where he was, to not take another step. But Qui-Gon didn't hear her.

He had nowhere to go but forward.

For the first time in nine years, Qui-Gon took a step in the right direction.

* * *

The path continued for what seemed like forever until rays of brilliant red and orange sunshine stabbed through the trees like knives through cloth. Here the trees began to crumble, leaving dry husks and decaying leaves. The rough stone path gave way to sand, Qui-Gon's footsteps cleared by the passing winds as he walked. Two suns blazed on the horizon, the mirage of the sand making it look like a sunset over water. The shape looked vaguely familiar to Qui-Gon and he squinted at the horizon trying to identify why. And then, like a door slamming shut, recognition flared into his mind.

It was the face from the forest. The twin suns- a pair of laughing eyes, the sand mirage- a twisted smile.

"Who are you?!" Qui-Gon bellowed at it, disregarding the part of his mind that called him crazy.

"What would you like me to be?" A voice seeming to be all around him echoed.

"What? I don't understand! Just tell me what you want with me!"

"We want you to set us free."

"Set you free? Set you free from what? Who are you?"

"From _him…_ " It whispered and the sand around him seemed to shudder violently in response.

"Who is _him_? Who is he?"

"For years he has haunted this place, never resting. He wasn't always this way. He used to love a man, cared for him so deeply he would do anything for him. But one day, his heart shattered. The man he loved so much broke his final promise. It split his heart into shards, scattering them all around this place. These wounds grew and festered, turning this beautiful place into a battlefield. He kills everything he touches even though he does not want to. He cannot stop. Not until someone sets _him_ free. He needs you, you can help him. Before his heartbreak consumes him, quickly. Set us free, Qui-Gon Jinn. Set us free. You can set us free…"

And with this final ghostly declaration, the suns' eyelids closed and plunged the desert into night. Instinct called his sabre to his hand and igniting it, he glanced around searching for shelter, for a way out, for anything. At the very edge of his vision there was a flicker of blue. _A lightsabre._ The Jedi Master ran as fast as he could down the dune, calling madly out to the dark figure with the sabre who walked swiftly some fifty metres away.

"Hey! Stop! Please! I need your help!"

The dark figure stopped and looked over its shoulder to glance backwards. Upon seeing half of the face, Qui-Gon slammed his feet into the sand skidding to an ungraceful halt. It was a familiar face, with ginger hair and bottle-green eyes; it was a face that haunted Qui-Gon as a phantasm of his guilt. But unlike the one that had walked beside Qui-Gon and died without him, this face looked… older. Deep cut wrinkles marred the face as though the gods themselves had taken a chisel and carved them into the soft skin. The Jedi Master reached out an arm as if he could touch the man now standing just three metres away.

"Obi-Wan?" he called, a coruscation of hope blossoming in his chest.

"I have no desire to speak to you. Not anymore."

Qui-Gon's arm dropped and like the last leaves of autumn, that flicker of hope in his heart withered and was blown away by the icy winds of winter. His padawan didn't want to talk to him and he couldn't blame him. Qui-Gon had been cruel to him for years but the Force had put them back on the right path before… before well, before Qui-Gon abandoned him. But now they were together. The afterlife was forever and he was determined to rebuild the bridges that had been so viciously left to smoulder. He closed his eyes and reached out for the presence of the other standing in front of him. He found nothing. Not even the blink of light from a living being.

 _Is this another phantom?_

When he opened his eyes, the other man had turned away and reached his palm out in front him. There was a strong gust in the Force and the entire _horizon_ split. The man's hand, flat against an invisible wall, spawned a web of cracks that fractured in every direction like shattered mirror. Qui-Gon was too in shock to say anything but the man paused before he stepped _through_ the web, disappearing with a remark that sounded an awful lot like _we are all phantoms._

* * *

 _This kriffing desert is so cold,_ Qui-Gon thought bitterly as he tucked his arms closer to his body. _Sweltering in the day, frigid at night, insufferable all the time._ _Why of all the places in this godforsaken afterlife, did I have to end up in the desert? I hate beaches and I hate deserts even more._

Qui-Gon walked for hours, letting his annoyance at the world around him burn his insides. He knew he wasn't supposed to feel this way, he knew he was supposed to let go of his feelings, of his attachments. This was the afterlife and he must move on. But he couldn't. There were too many regrets in his life, too many things he should've changed, too many roads he never travelled. And walking alone in the desert looking for the missing pieces was not helping this process. He didn't know where he was going, only that he needed to go this way. Some internal desire was pulling him towards the cliffs on the horizon. The instinct was ominous, like a animal about to kill or a star about to die. It was nearing daylight when Qui-Gon finally arrived at the cliffs. A monstrous and foreboding cavern loomed in front of him, his ignited sabre now tightly held in his hands. Qui-Gon stepped into the cave, the air inside colder than the desert behind him. Still feeling the pull of that desire, he continued further inwards. It was utterly silent except for his footfalls for the first quarter hour but as he ventured deeper and deeper he began to hear a noise that halted his steps. Echoing from in front of him, it sounded like... _someone crying?_ It was not the loud, painful wails of grief but rather the soft, heartbreaking sobs of defeat. Tentatively, he called out.

"Hello? Is someone there? Are you okay?"

There was no direct verbal response but the sobbing suddenly changed. No longer was it crying but instead whispering. Qui-Gon was too far away to hear it clearly, the distance between them making it incoherent nonsense but as he quietly moved closer, words began to appear. Or rather, one phrase began to appear like a beat against a war drum, over and over again.

"I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed."

It was spoken with such a distressing finality that Qui-Gon had to fight not to run and scoop whoever it was in his arms and murmur that it would all be okay. On a whim, call it fate or the Force, he called out a name hoping this time he would be answered.

"Obi-Wan?"

The whispers stopped entirely. Qui-Gon cursed internally, _I shouldn't have said anything. Now I've ruined my chance._ But then suddenly, he heard something. _Or someone._

A footfall. Then another. And then a whole series of them gaining speed before a body slammed into Qui-Gon nearly knocking him over. Shaking out of his shock, he looked down to see a head of ginger hair with its arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Gently, he brushed a hand through the hair. And when the ginger-haired being looked up, Qui-Gon's heart soared.

"Obi-Wan…" he breathed.

Together the two of them slid to the ground, Qui-Gon's hands brushing along all the curves and edges of Obi-Wan's face as if he was seeing it for the first time.

"Master, I can't believe it's you. I thought I'd never see you again. How are you here? What happened?"

The older Jedi paused. _Do I tell him the truth or speak one final lie? No. I must tell him the truth._ And with that, Qui-Gon looked his padawan straight in the eye and spoke the truth.

* * *

"You WHAT?"

Qui-Gon's eyes dropped to the ground, the scrutiny in the other's eyes too harsh to face. He ignored the way the cave moss around him seemed to die with the other's words. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to force the words out. He knew he deserved all of this anger. Of all the ways Qui-Gon had imagined their first conversation after nine years going, this was decidedly one of the worst. They had finally reached the edge where the cave meets the sand and the bright sunlight to Qui-Gon, felt like just another pair of eyes glaring at him for his actions.

"I… I let Maul defeat me."

"You… you let Maul _kill_ you? You committed suicide? How kriffed up is your brain? What was so hard that you couldn't stand it? What caused you to look at the world and say 'it's not worth trying anymore'? What happened, Qui-Gon?!"

"Life without you! That's what happened! Life without you!"

Obi-Wan's mouth slammed shut, a snippy retort lost immediately. He realized his mistake all too quickly.

"Qui-Gon, I'm-"

The older man held up a leathery hand, silencing his attempt to apologize.

"Don't. Don't even try. I had hoped that maybe we would have a pleasant reunion but it's obvious that you haven't changed. Honestly I thought nine years of the afterlife would have matured you but once again, I'm proven a fool. If anything, it has let the rage simmer and fester within you. I wish you well, Obi-Wan Kenobi. May the Force be with you."

And with that, the Jedi Master was gone.

Obi-Wan lingered, his arm stretched out in front of him, silently begging the man to return. But deep down inside, he knew his master wouldn't. For nine years, he had watched Qui-Gon destroy himself, had watched the bomb inside countdown until it finally imploded. And although he didn't want to admit it, part of him _hated_ Qui-Gon. Hated his master for rejecting him, hated his master for leaving him on a war-torn planet alone, hated his master for blaming Tahl's death on him, hated his master for not being there as he lay dying, and hated him for breaking the final promise. And now, after everything, they were supposed to what, _to just become like we were? Master and padawan? And remain here forever? Are we supposed to just forget everything that he did, everything that he put me through? Qui-Gon kept a grievance against me for years, it's time to return the favour._

Back when he was just a small initiate, he had been in a class about learning how to contain his emotions. The master in charge, Master Eprora had told the group that controlling your emotions was like walking along the edge of a cliff. It was okay to lose your balance so long as you fell the right way. One way and you fall only a little and you can pick yourself up again. Fall another way and you plummet too far to ever return. Obi-Wan had always idolized that statement. He even had called it his pillar of philosophy. But it hadn't been until after he had passed into the Force that he realized how naïve that ideology been. There was no right or wrong, it is not black and white. No one can walk only in the light or only in the dark. We all walk in the grey, we just twist the grey lighter or darker to align with our beliefs. And right now, Obi-Wan's grey had never looked darker. He cried out, letting every iota of fury and grief permeate the Force. His hands clenched at his sides, traces of ochre bleeding into his green eyes. _No, Master Eprora,_ he hissed, _it's not like falling to your death; because you see, there are ledges that extend out. Ledges you can land on. The Dark Side isn't death. It's just life from a different perspective. And that life can be very tempting. Teaching a child to fear something only makes it become more enticing to them._

Feeling the Dark pulse from his hands and through his veins, the tension in the Force erupted. Obi-Wan thrust his arms out and from them came a great power. The power feels so strong like a warm wave washing over him. He doesn't want to leave it, it's warm when the rest of his life was cold and heartless. It gives him a soul when his had been ripped out many years ago. The sand that swirled around his feet suddenly blackened and crystallized as if Obi-Wan was lightning, melting the sand in an instant. His life was over, he no longer had to walk the light path. And that made him grin.

* * *

Qui-Gon fled from the caves in which he had first encountered his padawan, his mind crying out for the living Force. _I need to find something green. I need plants and gardens. This place is a wasteland, barren and inhospitable. From even when I was an initiate, we were taught that the Force cradles us in its light after death. We live with the Force forever, it's lush and vibrant. Then where am I? This is hell, a prison, a way to torture me one last time. Where is the divine visions I was taught await us on the other side? Is what happens to us? To the sinners? To the thiefs? Are we condemned to this? Did I really deserve this? An eternity of imprisonment with him… with the man I scorned, rejected… failed. Where are the people I cared for, Aksel, Caeryssa, Clee, and… Tahl. Where are they? They had pure souls, they were special, they were important. They weren't me. They weren't villains. Only the villains live here… But then, why is Obi-Wan here? Why is the purest soul I knew, the brightest light, the manifestation of effervescent itself, here? Stuck in this hellhole, this cursed land? Why is he not with all of the people who loved him? Why is he here with the man who betrayed him? Is some kind of retribution? What did he do that would make the Force decide to keep him here? Is it because of me? Did I do something?_

Qui-Gon stopped, his mind's startling realization sending the old man sprawling to the sand. _Oh gods, no. It can't be! No! He is here because of me. For nine years, he has been stuck here because of me. He is paying the price for my mistake._ The Force had not been kind to his padawan. In fact, it had been downright cruel. It had taken a young boy who died giving his life to others and forced him through more pain. It made him stay in a wasteland because of someone else's mistake. Qui-Gon screamed at the top of his lungs, cursing the Force. The Force was supposed to care for its children; and look what it had done.

 _For nine years, Obi-Wan didn't have someone to pick him back up._ It was at this moment that Qui-Gon resolved to change that. He would be there for his padawan, he would care for him, help him, pick him back up when everything sought to kick him down. He would not fail his padawan again. _Bandomeer, Melida/Daan, New Apsolon, Stratria IX… Naboo. Oh gods, so many times. So many times I forced him to stand on his own, so many times I forced him to decide between me and his heart, so many times I forced a wedge between me and him. Every time, every kriffing time he took criticism, rejection, disparagement, and dismissal without complaint. And the first thing I do when I'm here is reject him again. I made him bottle up his emotions for years and the first time he could finally let them out, I tell him that his feelings are idiotic and foolish. If anyone's the fool, it's me. What have I done?!_

Pulling himself to his feet, Qui-Gon spotted a series of blackened footsteps tracking horizontally to his position. Drawn by curiosity, he began to follow them across the immense sands. A kilometre from where he had started, the footsteps stopped. There were no side paths, no lingering indents, nothing. Silence hung about like vines, reaching down to entangle ill-fated travellers with its sorrows. The world around seemed to hold its breath and Qui-Gon bristled, the tension triggering an automatic response. He glanced around, scanning the sands for something, _anything_ , but his efforts were fruitless. Consigning himself to the Force, the old man relaxed and allowed himself to wait. The Force, however, had decided he had waited long enough.

The space in front of Qui-Gon rippled and a figure stepped out, a hood drawn up around their face; they took a few small steps toward the Jedi and stopped. There was a small pause as the wind snarled around them and Qui-Gon lifted a hand to block the sand from pelting his skin. In a moment, the sand had settled and he dropped his hand to see the figure in front of him staring straight at him. Their face still mostly in shadow but their eyes, a glowing, burning, seething amber, and perched on their face, a twisted smile. Qui-Gon took a few quick paces away from the figure but that face stuck with him. Why did that bring a spark of familiarity into his mind?

"Who are you?" Qui-Gon bellowed, forcing his voice to not waver.

"I…" the figure spoke, its voice melodic and taunting, "I am a free man."

The man reached up and ripped the hood off their face. Horror instantly drenched the older Jedi's face. It was a sight he had always hoped would never happen again. His padawan, whether Xanatos or Obi-Wan, with their eyes a seething amber. Once again, one of his padawans had fallen. Forcing himself to look for the soul behind the amber eyes, Qui-Gon whispered his vow, _I will not let him stand alone._

"What is it you are whispering, old man? A final prayer for your soul, a final hope that you will not be stuck in this hell? It is too late, the Force has abandoned us both."

Obi-Wan lunged towards Qui-Gon, the blackened footsteps following behind him. With a single movement, Qui-Gon captured Obi-Wan's cold hand tightly with both hands and pulled him closer.

"I always was faster at hand to hand combat." Qui-Gon quipped, the heat of the moment letting the bitter humour escape. Obi-Wan tried to wrestle away but the grasp the older man had was too strong. The last traces of the retort washed off the Jedi's face as he turned Obi-Wan's face towards his.

"Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan. Let me be your home. For years, I was the tide on the shore. Ebbing and flowing away from you, never a constant in your life except for the knowledge that I, like the tide, continuously existed somewhere. I was never always there for you. Now, I will be."

The younger man turned his eyes up to look at the man, clear lines of pain etched into his face. Behind his eyes however, the many gears of his mind were winding through each scenario deciding which path would be his ultimate destiny.

A part of him wanted to never let go of the dark for power was his and he could do great things. But another part wanted to let go, to join the light, to _stop fighting_. He was dead, he had no bonds, no chains, he _could_ give up and not feel any guilt. Qui-Gon moved suddenly to kneel on the ground.

"Obi-Wan please let me say, I am sorry. Truly and completely sorry. I have done some absolutely reprehensible things and you stood through it all. You never should have been subjected to that."

And before Obi-Wan's shocked eyes and gaping mouth, Qui-Gon Jinn folded himself to the ground in a complete and formal kowtow. There was a pause, the pensive silence settling in like a fog. Obi-Wan hesitantly reached down and slipped his hand into his master's, pulling the older man up to his feet. They looked at each other for a moment before Obi-Wan threw himself into Qui-Gon's chest, his face pressed into the rough fabric of the man's tunic, feeling for the first time in a while that he was really _truly_ home.

Hidden from both men, the younger's eyes bleached from the jagged ochre of sandstone to the grey as smooth as polished granite and the ragged and dried weeds of the world began to gently strengthen, reaching weak tendrils towards the suns.

They weren't okay, but they were together. And that's all they needed.


End file.
